This morning I lie in bed, staring at the hotel bedroom ceiling, wondering: why?, how did I get to this place? how long will I need to endure this life's suffering? will jimmy notice I am using his credit card? should I clip my nails, or grow them out crazy recluse style? When the maid comes in, will she see me lying here and offer me a quick backrub? There, finally something worth thinking about. I hope she's Latina. Muy bueno. Donde esta la "lotion"?
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